by Honey Jans
"On the table,” Condor said, with a shrug of his head.
She diverted to the small corner table and laid down the rattan tray, inhaling the mouthwatering aromas of coffee and something savory. She lifted off the tray's woven cover to reveal one plate of breakfast, and one cup of coffee. She flicked a troubled glance at Condor, who still watched her. “They didn't bring enough."
"Oh, there's enough. You forget your place. Remember, you may eat when I say you can, Star. Now, slave position number one."
Bridget sank to her knees, glaring back at him, even though she knew they were being spied on, and he had to do it. Still, Condor played the roll to the hilt; he could be such a bastard, even if this was part of the game. She watched him take a seat at the table, not caring that she was breaking the rules by glaring at him.
He took a sip of the coffee, letting out a sigh of pleasure. “They make excellent coffee here at The Retreat. Would you like a sip?"
Angry but desperate, she nodded.
"Kneel up then,” he said, arching a brow while adding cream and sugar to the cup.
Stifling a grumble, she rose up a bit taller and took a sip from the cup he held out to her. She started to reach for it but a forbidding frown from him kept her hands primly at her sides. The coffee, rich and creamy, tasted like ambrosia. He'd fixed it her way, she realized with shock, recalling that he took his black. She drank deeply, and then sat back with a sigh of pleasure. “Thank you, sir,” she murmured, seeing his hot, startled glance.
He buttered a wedge of toast, munched on it, and then held it out for her to take a bite. Her stomach rumbled in anticipation. He ate half a strip of bacon and held the other half out for her to nibble. Bit by bit, he fed her off his plate until it was empty. Then he wiped her mouth with the cloth napkin when he was done. Bridget sat back on her haunches waiting for further instructions.
Leaning back, he looked at her. “Today's going to be a big day for you."
She blinked up at him, surprised that it was happening so soon. She wasn't quite sure she was ready for this step. “How so?"
He reached out to smooth back her hair. “Miss Lola has already made out your schedule."
Her nose wrinkled with distaste as she scowled at the sheet of paper in his hands. The dreaded Mistress Lola was working overtime. “How thoughtful,” she muttered.
"Let's see what's on your to-do list, shall we? You should just have time to do your chores before you toddle off to the day spa. Between pampering, a work-out, and oral pleasure techniques class, your dance card is full, Kitten. It'll give me time to do a little fishing."
Fishing for clues, he meant. She glared back at him. He was free to investigate while Lola instructed her in Blowjob 101. It so wasn't fair, but she'd have to make the most of the opportunities that came her way.
He frowned down at her. “Be sure that you adhere to this, and only this. No deviations from the list. We can't afford them, got it, Star?"
He was referring to her break in character last night. Most submissives wouldn't know martial arts. She nodded.
He stood and helped her to her feet, to stand beside him. “Be good.” He pulled her into his arms for a kiss.
She moaned as his mouth slanted over hers and opened her mouth for his tongue. It surged inside, mating with hers, reminding her of her surrender. When he broke the kiss, she sighed, and reluctantly parted from him.
"Be careful,” he whispered. Letting her go, he added, “Don't forget to tidy up. We don't want to have the maids in.” He frowned down at her.
She got the message; they didn't want snoops going over their things. He hadn't assigned her to clean the room just to keep her occupied. When the door closed behind him, she looked at Lola's accursed to-do list. Another boring day of pampering, how did these pampered sex toys stand the tedium? Of course, a day at the spa would afford her an opportunity to chat up the new girls. And, if she was lucky, give her access to Lola's office. The oral course sounded appallingly interesting.
Chapter 8
Condor hurried across the grounds, noting that he seemed to be one of the few early risers. He wasn't surprised after the way the party had raged on long after he'd hauled Bridget's sexy ass out of there. He stepped out onto the pier and made his way down the dock to the sleek cabin cruiser, which was tied up, and purring at its side. This had to be Kahn and Wetzel's charter, even though they didn't seem to be about yet. Probably sleeping it off. He was reminded of how Wetzel was sucking down the complimentary rum punch last night. The man was nervous, scared of Kahn, and maybe Perez?
The boat rental shack was locked up tight, with a sign saying that it was closed for the morning. He ignored it and boarded the craft, following his nose to the rich aroma of coffee brewing in the galley down below. He walked down the ladder to find a topless native girl bustling around the cramped kitchen, making coffee and cutting tropical fruit.
She looked up startled, then saw the member's wristband on Condor's wrist and smiled. “Would you like coffee, sir?"
"I'll handle this, Rene,” a low, male voice said from behind him.
Condor turned to see a wiry native man with a weather-beaten face. The sailor, with leathery skin and quick moves, looked down at him suspiciously. He glanced at the Members Only platinum wristband on Condor's wrist and underwent a metamorphosis, his smile more of a sneer.
"Something I can do for you, Mister..."
"Welsh, Jason Welsh,” Condor said.
"Well, Mr. Welsh, you must be lost or something, because you sure ain't one of the gents who hired me."
Condor read the guy's sour expression as he said gents. He didn't think much of the guests he was paid to drive. “I'd like to rent a sailboat for the day."
The man frowned. “Sorry, sir. The marina's closed for the morning. If you'd like to come back this afternoon..."
"I can't,” Condor said, giving him a steady look. “Lola did say I could have anything I asked for. Maybe if I called her..."
"Lola, you say?” the man interrupted.
Condor saw the man's unease as he pulled out his cell phone. Lola probably wouldn't like being woken at six in the morning. The dragon lady was feared. “If you'd like me to call, you can talk to her."
"At six in the morning, are you crazy?"
"No. Just determined.” Condor shrugged, pocketed the phone, and pulled out his wallet. He peeled off three hundred dollar bills, and stepped up the stairs to hand them to the older man. “This is just a small token of my appreciation, sir."
He watched the guy pocket the bills. “Well, I suppose I have time to get you away before this lot comes around.” He frowned down at Rene who was watching them curiously. “Get on with your work, girl."
Condor used the distraction to plant a dual bug and GPS device alongside the bulkhead. Tiny, it blended in with the hull. Hopefully, it would give him the edge he needed to privately survey Kahn and Wetzel's actions without scaring them off. With any luck, he'd take down Perez, and they'd be out of here by noon.
Bridget will be so pissed not to be in on the kill.
"Follow me, sir,” the man said, walking toward the gangplank.
Condor easily alit from the craft, and followed the man to the boathouse. He shared the other man's urge for speed. The men would only drop their guard if they knew they weren't being observed.
He climbed onto the sailboat, and cast off. He saw the nervous look in the other man's eye, and smiled to reassure him. “Which way are they going, so I can avoid them?"
"Didn't file any plan, but they're bound for Lace Island, I imagine. It's a little speck due north. Avoid that, and you should be okay."
Condor set off silently, the wind filling his sails, and made for sea. He'd spent four years as a Navy Seal, so the sea was second nature to him. With the dock far behind him, he tacked around the far side of The Retreat's island and made for a mangrove swamp in the distance. It was the midway point between the pier and the island the man had pointed out. He unpacked his backpack, pulling
out his binoculars, and wondered how Bridget was getting on in Blowjob 101. She was the star pupil probably. Setting anchor on the rocking boat, he scanned the crystal blue waters for trouble, spotting the desert isle. Supposedly deserted—he saw signs of life.
The bug snapped to life. “Ready to catch some marlin, Wetzel?” Kahn asked then chuckled.
"I don't see why we couldn't have done this on dry land,” Wetzel complained in a whiny voice.
"Because we said so,” Kahn said, dryly. “Relax and enjoy the blue waters—the topless girls—you wuss."
"Easy for you to say. You know I get seasick,” Wetzel said.
"Barf on my new suit and I'll feed you to the sharks, drunkard. The hell with our deal."
Condor sat in the mangrove forest, hearing the motor of the cabin cruiser before it came into sight. He silently watched it zip across the water directly to the island. The man hadn't been yanking his chain. He watched them with his binoculars. Kahn looked natty as ever in a thousand dollar, tropical weight suit. Wetzel looked green about the gills, as he clutched a duffle bag to his chest. He watched them stop offshore, because of the reef, and wait.
The whine of a motorboat was audible through the bug.
"Buck up, my friend, he's here,” Kahn said.
"Bullshit,” Wetzel said, gagging as the boat rocked.
"He looks queasy to me,” another male voice called out.
Condor went on point, realizing someone had climbed up the swim ladder. He watched a guy with blond curly hair walk up to them, his stride feral. Condor growled deep in his throat. Damn it all, it can't be. He'd aged, changed his appearance, but it was James Clayton; he'd stake his life on it.
"Did you bring it?” James asked, glancing at the duffle Wetzel still clutched.
"You first,” Wetzel said, glaring back at him.
"Our friend is developing courage,” James said, with a sneer.
"He's drinking like a fish, Jimmy boy. Thought some ninja woman attacked him yesterday after he met you,” Kahn said, with a smirk.
Bridget! Condor shuddered, realizing anew what a close call she'd had, and then froze, as the full implications sank in. Had she seen James? It would seem almost unavoidable. But why hadn't she said anything? Unless she was still hung up on the bastard. Ice encased his heart at the disturbing thought. No! She was too honorable to double-cross him, and she was his. How the hell was he going to tell her that her ex was alive and with the enemy? He'd have to find some way to keep her shielded. He lowered the binoculars in the hot sun.
"What the hell was that?” James asked, looking directly toward Condor's hiding place.
"What?” Kahn said.
"A flash of light, a reflection off something, six clicks off."
Condor put away his binoculars, realizing the sun had glinted off them, giving his position away. Damn, he was getting careless. He sat back, making himself the picture of relaxation, and took a siesta.
"Crap, it's a sail boat lying in the weeds,” James said.
"Gimme that spyglass,” Kahn said, and then chuckled. “It looks like Welsh, after the trouble he had with his submissive last night, I don't blame him for hiding out."
"What kind of trouble?” James asked, suspiciously. “He won't come ashore if things aren't right."
"Nothing like that. His girl acted up, scandalously."
"Knocked his ass in the pool,” Wetzel said with a dry chuckle.
"Shut up,” Kahn cut in. “She's obviously not well trained. The guy must have a weak will and a limp dick. The little hellcat needs a firmer hand, like mine."
Condor went rigid, hearing them discuss Bridget. With eyes half shut, he surreptitiously watched them head back toward the dock at The Retreat. James kept watch on him through a spyglass the whole way. The turned secret agent had lost none of his instincts as a spook.
* * * *
Bridget entered the spa gym, instantly noticing two new women, one older and brunette in a bikini, the other, a pretty blond in a pink, baby doll nighty. She settled on the mat beside them, to stretch. The new arrivals had to be Perez's women, she hoped. She was going to get to work after all, thwarting Condor's wishes. She stretched beside them as the semi-nude women moved through languid poses. The blond was sulky, pouting as she went through the motions, while the older brunette flexed with athletic grace.
"If only he'd get here,” the blond said.
"Now hush, Jasmine. You know how harsh he gets with you when you get the sulks,” the other woman said with a French accent.
"Easy for you to say, Yvette. You're his number one girl, and I have to settle for seconds."
"Cheri, you know how fickle he is. Soon it will be your turn to be the special one."
"Well, there you are,” Candy said, plopping down on the matt next to Bridget.
Bridget gave her a tight smile as the other women fell silent. Crap, talk about bad timing. Bridget couldn't help wincing as she looked at the new stripes on the nude woman's ass. “You got it again."
"And how,” Candy said, with a smile. “You really lit his fire last night, girlfriend. I never thought of knocking him into the pool. Thanks."
"Don't mention it,” Bridget said, hoping to change the subject. She didn't need to get next to Ari anymore to further the investigation, not now that Perez's women had arrived.
"Candy, you're here,” Yvette said.
Bridget shrank back as Yvette leaned over to look around her. She watched the women embrace, and rolled her eyes at her own thick-headedness. Of course, they were friends, as conspirators they traveled in the same circles. Things were looking up; Candy could give her entrée to the group.
"What'd she do to turn your man's head?” Jasmine asked.
"Knocked Ari in the pool, after introductions last night. Then her Dom publicly spanked her. Let me tell you, every tomcat around here now looks at her like she's catnip."
"Clever girl,” Yvette commented.
"I didn't...” Bridget felt herself blush, as she started to protest, then bit her tongue. Letting them think she was simpatico would enhance her profile and get her one step closer to Perez. “Thanks, it just sort of came to me. We all do what we can to stand out from a crowd."
"Do you have any more tips you'd care to share with us?” Jasmine leaned in to ask.
Bridget scrambled for an answer, inhaling Jasmine's sweet floral scent. In contrast, Yvette was wearing something deep and musky. “Did you ever hear about the ice cream cone trick?” she asked, remembering a trick she'd read about in an erotic romance. They all laughed.
"No. Tell us,” Jasmine said.
"Well you cut out the base on a cone, and you slip it over his erect cock,” she said, realizing with a monster like Condor's, it would never fit. “Then you lick it off him until he splits the cone and there's a sweet ending.” They all laughed.
Lola walked in and shot Bridget a glare from across the room. “Quiet, it's the dragon lady,” she hissed and the others subsided into giggles.
"We'll talk later,” she said quietly, and sat back to watch as Lola took the Pilates instructor's place on the stage.
"Ladies, your attention."
Ramón, the swarthy valet, and a smiling bar waitress came onto the stage to stand beside her. “Now, ladies, Ramón and Midge are going to demonstrate some oral pleasure techniques that should excite our members. We all know we must enhance our skills to keep our Doms interested."
That statement caught Bridget's interest as Candy and Jasmine giggled beside her. It never hurt to brush up on her skills, and she had the perfect subject to try them out on. Would Condor be interested in her outside the mission? She watched, appalled, as Miranda kissed Ramón and then sank to her knees before him. He was grinning, his toothy gaze sweeping around the room, focusing on Bridget for a minute, as he winked. She froze, glad that she was dressed in the caftan, and looked at Midge. The woman, in profile to her, opened Ramón's pants with her teeth, and tugged them down that way. Ramón's cock sprang out, hard, red, and bobbing
up and down. He had nothing on Condor, who was magnificent.
Nevertheless, Bridget watched as Midge sighed, and flicked out her tongue, swirling it around the purple head of his cock. He fisted his hands in her hair, hard, making her wince. What a creep. Moaning, she opened her mouth and took him deep inside. Ramón let out a hiss like a steam engine. She let him go, and sucked on his balls, making his eyes roll back in his head. Bridget stared at his reaction, fascinated. Who knew that was so effective? Maybe she'd try it on Condor.
A glance around the room told her the others were staring with rapt attention, even Lola. Knowing she'd never get a better opportunity to search the bitch's office, she slipped away. After edging out of sight, she stood and hurried down the hall to Lola's office. The door was closed, and the lights off. She let herself inside, and rushed to the computer. Slipping into the desk chair, she tried to boot up the PC and found it password protected. Lola wasn't the easy target she appeared to be. Playing a hunch, she typed in “Red Dawn” and grinned when it opened for her. It didn't surprise her to find that Lola kept detailed files on all the guests, including their sexual kinks. Wetzel wouldn't like it to get out that he liked cross-dressing, and being spanked. But she'd already gathered that from Simone.
There was another layer of files—encrypted files. What gems of information might they hold? The Retreat's connection to Perez? There was no time to try breaking the code, she quickly sent the files to Delta Star, and then covered her tracks. Hopefully Lola would be none the wiser. She was just shutting down the computer, when footsteps outside the door caught her attention. Lola.
She shut down and ducked into Lola's private bathroom, pulling the door shut behind her, so that only a crack of light shone through. The office door opened, and Lola entered, flipping on the light switch. Bridget tracked her movements as she walked over to the desk, looked at the computer, and frowned as she touched the warm, still lit, screen. Damn, it hadn't automatically shut down. She braced herself for the possibility of discovery. The phone rang, Lola shrugged, answering it, and Bridget let out a breath.